Chapter 11
Austin
My fingers fumble over the buttons on my shirt, a pile of rejected ones already lying on my bed, a flashing sign of how stupid this date is making me. I haven’t been on a date since Harry, and I can’t remember ever being this nervous about one before.
For a change, Oliver and I texted throughout the week, exchanging emojis, idle day to day chat about our lives and friends, and the occasional bit of sexting. All of it making me both exceedingly sure about wanting this date, and increasingly nervous that I’m going to fuck it up somehow. This isn’t a Grindr hookup anymore; it’s so much more. Which means there’s more to lose…but I guess that also means there’s more to gain.
In a lot of ways, I hadn’t realized how much of a hold I was letting Harry have on my life until I decided to let it go. Luke was right when he said I’m a softie at heart, and as soon as I stopped holding the betrayal and hurt like a shield from the world, I realized how lonely I’d become. Not so much on Fridays, like I told Oliver last week. But I hadn’t realized how much of the past two months I spent counting down to Friday every week, counting down to seeing Oliver.
Taking a look in the mirror, I’m finally satisfied with what I see. Smoothing my hands over the shirt and then doing a quick spin to make sure my ass looks good in my pants, I then slip on my shoes, grab my coat and keys, and head out with a whistle on my lips.
The familiar drive to Oliver’s place is quick. This time when I buzz, he responds immediately by letting me up.
Oliver
I shuffle my feet impatiently by the door, waiting to hear Austin knock before opening it in an effort not to seem too over eager. This may not be the first time we’ve hung out, but this is the first time it’s a date, and I’m more excited than I’d like to admit.
My breath catches in my throat when I open the door to Austin. He looks almost as nervous as I feel, a pink blush blooming on his cheeks, his lips damp and puffy like he’s been chewing on them, his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets.
“I like your shirt.” I blurt the first thing that comes to mind, and a smile forms on Austin’s lips.
“Thanks, you look nice too.”
I glance down at myself, already forgetting what I put on earlier before anxiously waiting by the door for an hour like a puppy. When I look up again, his eyes are fixed on the drying canvas in my living room.
“That’s the painting of me,” he says, taking a step toward it to examine it more closely.
“Yeah, I’ve been working on it all week. I already have a buyer interested, and you wouldn’t believe what he’s willing to pay for it.”
His eyes go wide with disbelief.
“Seriously? Someone wants to pay a buttload of money for a picture of me half naked? With a condom hanging off my dick?”
“Apparently,” I chuckle. “The print has a lot of interest too. This is by far my best seller to date. You’ll have to let me paint you again sometime.”
He stares at the painting for a few more seconds, his throat bobbing with a swallow as I wait for him to say something, anything.
“You can paint me any time,” he says after a few seconds before turning toward me and taking my face in his hands, kissing me breathless before my brain has time to catch up with what’s happening.
“This date is certainly off to a good start,” I joke when he pulls away.
“No surprise there.” Austin pecks my lips one more time before releasing me. “Ready to go? I have reservations at a fancy French place.”
“Oh La La,” I tease, batting my eyes. “Let me put on my shoes, and then I’m ready to go.”
It’s a twenty-minute drive to the restaurant, and it’s even fancier than I expected. I glance down at my jeans and old button up shirt self-consciously.
“You look great,” Austin assures me, taking my hand and leading me to the host stand.
At the table, he orders us a bottle of wine.
“Are you trying to impress me? Because it’s working.”
Austin smirks. “This is a date; it’s my job to impress you.”
“Hmm, maybe dating isn’t as bad as I’ve always imagined.”
“Is that why you don’t date? You thought it wouldn’t be any fun?”
I shrug and reach for a piece of bread from the center of the table. “It’s what I told you before. I hate the idea of being tied down, of having to answer to someone else.”
“So, why’d you agree to a date with me?” he pries.
I take a large bite of the bread, buying myself a few seconds before I have to answer, but I can’t chew forever.
“I guess I realized commitment and expectations may not be horrible with the right person.”
“And I’m the right person?” There’s hope and a little bit of fear shining in his eyes.
“I think so.” The waiter returns with our wine, and we both place our orders, buying me a few more minutes before I have to finish my confession. “I usually don’t have trouble with casual, but with you I’ve found myself counting the days until Friday each week and thinking about you in between.”
“Me too,” Austin admits.
“I really like you.”
“Me too,” he says again with a smile, reaching across the table to take my hand.
“Oh my god, is this the part where you ask me to go steady or give me your letterman jacket or something?” I tease in an attempt to ease the weight of the moment.
“How about if I just suggest we be exclusive?” he counters.
“I can totally live with that,” I agree. “I haven’t been with anyone else anyway.”
“Neither have I. Actually, I haven’t been with anyone else since the first time we hooked up.”
“I know. You told me that when you were high after you came to visit me at the bar,” I admit.
“That’s embarrassing,” he laughs.
“No, it’s not, it’s nice. I thought a lot about you after that first night too. I kept hoping you’d message me again,” I assure him.
“I’m sorry I blew you off like that. I’ve been so fucking scared of getting my heart broken again, I didn’t realize how lonely I was letting myself get.”
“We don’t have to be lonely anymore.” I watch his expression, worried he’s going to get spooked again at this line of conversation, but if anything, he seems to be more relaxed than I’ve seen him.
“Good, because I don’t want to be lonely anymore. I want to see you on days that aren’t Friday, and I want to tell you how I feel without worrying about either of us getting scared.”
“I’m up for that,” I agree, squeezing his fingers.
“Good, because I think I’m falling in love with you,” Austin confesses, and my breath catches in my throat, and my heart goes wild. “You don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel—”
“I do,” I cut him off. “I love you too.”
“So…um…what do we do now?”
“Oh, sugar lips, we finally get to do what I’m best at, we wing it and see what happens.”
“That’s what you’re best at?” he challenges with a quirked eyebrow.
“Absolutely.”